


Where You Go I'm Going

by justadreamfox



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew and Kevin need to talk, Established Relationship, Exy, Hints of Kevin/Jean/Nathaniel (past), Kevin Day POV, Kevin's tattoo, M/M, mixtape fic, roof sitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28987194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justadreamfox/pseuds/justadreamfox
Summary: With the Moriyama's hold over him broken and Jean and Nathaniel finally rescued from the Nest, Kevin sorts out what this means for his and Andrew's relationship. Kevin wants: more. Andrew wants: well, Kevin would sure like to know. If only he'd get up off the roof...Mixtape Exchange Song:Achilles Come Down | Gang of Youths
Relationships: Kevin Day/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 27
Kudos: 52
Collections: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021





	Where You Go I'm Going

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alex_wh0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/gifts).



> Maya, I adored this song. It was perfect for Kevin & Andrew and it lives in my head and my heart on repeat now. Thank you.
> 
> As always, thank you to my cheerleader [likearecord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likearecord/profile) and my beta destroyer [makebelieveanything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makebelieveanything/)
> 
> And finally, if you want to check in on Jean & Neil, [Skip the Last Dance For Me (the Trojan Horse remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519439) is in the same alternate universe, and takes place about 5 months after this fic.

* * *

_The self is not so weightless_

_Nor whole and unbroken_

_Remember the pact of our youth_

Kevin spit out his toothpaste, cupped water into his mouth and spit again. He rubbed wet hands across his face, through his hair, and squinted at the mirror, reducing his green eyes to slits. He closed his left eye, then his right, and turned his face slightly until the edge of the number two inked on his cheek disappeared. 

He had wanted it, the tattoo. No one held him down. That had been before Kevin realized what was really going on behind closed doors - before he’d been shoved through those doors himself. He pressed his fingertips into his cheek. It only took one fingertip to hide it. Such a tiny thing. Such an enormous thing. He pushed harder against his cheekbone, watching the skin around his finger turn white with pressure. Riko was dead, Jean and Nathaniel were safe, and Kevin still _wanted._

Kevin flexed his left hand but didn’t look down at the pink scars tracing his skin.

When Kevin left the bathroom Andrew still wasn’t back. Nicky had gone to bed, and Aaron was at the dining table in giant headphones, tapping a pen on his notebook. Kevin frowned at his phone. It was almost ten and he had no texts from Andrew since he’d left practice to spar with Renee - not even a heads up that he wouldn’t be joining Kevin for their night practice. 

He flipped his phone open to shoot off a text, but changed his mind, grabbing a hoodie instead and heading down the hall to the girls’ room. It wasn’t beyond reason that Andrew would have trailed Renee back to her dorm after fighting, but Renee opened the door with a kind smile and a shake of her head and well, there was only one other place Andrew would be. 

He felt a small pang at the thought; it had been a while since Andrew had retreated to the roof without inviting him along with a terse inclination of his head or a simple _roof_ texted to his phone. Kevin hesitated only briefly before climbing the stairs to the access door and pushing out into the darkness of Andrew’s sanctuary. 

He was there, hidden in shadows by the ledge, blond hair a beacon lit by the half moon, cigarette smoke curling up around his profile. 

He didn’t turn around - he didn’t need to. Andrew knew it was Kevin. No one else would come up here. 

Kevin settled down next to him, letting his ankles dangle over the edge and propping back on his elbows. Andrew took a drag and didn’t look at him. That was fine. Kevin waited until Andrew’s cigarette was gone, watched him flick it off the roof. He hated the cigarettes, what he knew they were doing to Andrew’s lungs, but the smell of the smoke was a pavlovian scent memory meaning stolen kisses and safety. 

“Missed you at practice tonight,” Kevin said into the silence. 

“I was at practice.” 

_“Our_ practice.” 

“Is it ours?” 

“I thought so.” 

“Mmmm.” Andrew lit another cigarette. 

Kevin tilted his head back to look for stars, but there were too many clouds, too much light. There was only the elusive half moon illuminating the sky as it slipped in and out of cover. 

He sat up again, flexed his hand. “I did drills with my left hand tonight,” he said carefully, not sure of the reaction he wanted. Andrew turned his head sharply to look at him for the first time tonight. For the first time today, Kevin realized. 

Andrew set his half finished cigarette aside and held out his hand. Kevin laid his own scarred hand on top; this wasn’t the first time they’d done this. Andrew ran sure fingers over his skin, along his scars, feeling his knuckles and fingers, circling his wrist and pressing into his palm. The inspection turned into longer strokes of pressure, Andrew’s strong fingertips pressing into the base of Kevin’s thumb, the sides of his wrist, and Kevin sighed as the ache eased somewhat. 

Kevin had tilted towards Andrew, and their foreheads were almost touching when Andrew released his hand and leaned away from him to pick up his abandoned cigarette. Kevin rolled his wrist and stared at Andrew shamelessly: the line of his jaw, the firm set of his unyielding lips, the angle of his nose, his barely there eyebrows, blond hair delicate against pale skin. He watched him close off again, stepping away from the intimacy of cataloging Kevin’s hand, the feel of fingertips on skin. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Kevin asked quietly. He didn’t mean now or today or anything really, but something had changed and he didn’t know what; he didn’t know when it had happened, or why. The ease between them had settled into unease without Kevin realizing, and an anxious knot tightened around his lungs at the thought. 

Andrew didn’t respond, but Kevin waited, because he knew him. He gave him time because this was Andrew. Kevin trusted that whatever it was, he would tell him eventually. 

It was many minutes though, before Andrew turned back to him, told him not to ask stupid questions, and kissed him. 

Kevin opened to the warm smokiness of Andrew’s insistent tongue, and didn’t resist when Andrew pushed him to the ground and kissed him until his lips were sore and his heart was settled. 

  
  


_Hear those bells ring deep in the soul_

_Chiming away for a moment_

_Feel your breath course frankly below_

_See life as a worthy opponent_

  
  


Kevin went to their night practice alone the entire next week. 

At least Andrew didn’t disappear after team practice. Instead they’d eat with his family like they always did, do laundry or homework until it was time for Kevin to quirk an eyebrow in invitation to Andrew, time for Andrew to respond by tossing him the keys to the GS before settling down with a book or staring out the window, smoking a cigarette through the screen. 

Andrew had gotten quieter and quieter too, which may have seemed rather par for the course to everyone else - particularly since Andrew had come off the drugs - but it wasn’t par for the course for Kevin. Andrew usually talked to him, or at minimum, sat in comfortable silences with him. That’s not what this past week had been. This past week had been awkward and uncomfortable, only broken up by stolen kisses or casual touches. The only time when they were in sync was when their hands were on each other, when their lips were engaged in pursuits other than talking. Kevin didn’t push him, because he knew he couldn’t; pushing Andrew wouldn’t be a tug of war, it would be a dead end. 

On Friday, Andrew dropped his keys in Kevin’s hand before opening a bottle of whiskey and plopping down on the beanbags with Aaron, video game controller in hand. Kevin didn’t bother to invite him this time. Instead, he shouldered his bag and went to the court alone, and for the first time since Riko had broken him, he picked up the racket with his left hand and knocked down every single cone in order, perfected every single one of the nine basic Raven drills. 

It was an hour later that Kevin dropped his racket, chest heaving in triumph, and instinctively he glanced up into the stands for Andrew. He wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there for weeks. Kevin stood in the center of the court, buzzing with what he’d just done, but alone. 

He showered and dressed quickly, but paused as he passed a mirror, eyes tugged reflexively to his cheekbone, the number two taunting him, laughing at his success, mocking his joy at conquering drills designed for first year Ravens. Drills he used to do with his metaphorical eyes closed. 

Kevin stepped closer to the mirror and covered the side of his face with his palm. He was not this number. He never had been. He dropped his hand. Riko was dead, and Kevin was not. In fact, Kevin was a goddamned comet ablaze. Staring in the mirror still, Kevin pulled out his phone and called the number his dad had given him months ago before heading back to the dorms. 

Andrew hadn’t moved from the beanbag, and he didn’t look up when Kevin walked back into the room. The whiskey bottle was a quarter empty, but at least Andrew wasn’t on the roof, alone. 

“Come with me,” Kevin said.

Andrew did pause the game then and turned to look at Kevin. Aaron was looking at him too, but Kevin kept his eyes focused on Andrew, waiting. 

If Andrew turned him down right now his heart might crack in two. 

Maybe Andrew saw it on his face, or maybe he saw something else, but whatever reason he found in Kevin’s green eyes he tossed the controller aside and hopped up to grab his coat. 

They were silent in the car. Kevin drove - he would have handed the keys off to Andrew, quarter bottle of whiskey or not, but Andrew hadn’t asked for them. Instead, he’d dropped into the passenger seat and poked at the radio until the messy, metallic sounds of the campus radio station spilled out. It was late and the roads were clear of traffic, but it still took 20 minutes to cross town to the tattoo parlor.

Andrew hadn’t asked where they were going, but he turned to stare at him when Kevin pulled into the small parking lot and cut the engine. Kevin stared back into those hazel eyes, dark amber and glinting in the streetlight seeping through their windows. Andrew reached out to press a thumb into Kevin’s cheek. It wasn’t gentle, but Kevin leaned into it. Andrew’s touch was grounding, and he let out a shuddering breath because Andrew had not touched him in days. 

“I’ve missed you,” Kevin said, eyes closed. 

“I have not gone anywhere,” Andrew said quietly. He slid his thumb along Kevin’s cheekbone, down his jaw. 

“Haven’t you?” Kevin said. 

Andrew hummed, and lifted his hand to press a thumb over Kevin’s tattoo again. “What are you getting?”

Kevin sighed and let him change the subject. He considered how to articulate what he’d felt today on the court. “Riko was _king._ Number one, he claimed. He was good - fuck that, he was amazing. But he was limited by his own cruelty and pettiness, and now he is dead.” 

Kevin took a deep breath. “I have never been number two,” he said fiercely, and he meant it - he knew it and had always known it. “I have never been limited in any way except by my willingness to stand behind Riko, by my fear. I am not afraid anymore. I can wield my racket in both hands, I have been rebuilt stronger from my injury. I am a better player - _a stronger player_ \- than I was before, because it forced me to play in a way I never would have tried. Let Riko be king, let him be dead and buried. I am alive, and I will be the most powerful piece on the board.”

“Queen,” Andrew said, and for a moment his eyes were shining with a light that Kevin hadn’t seen in weeks. 

“Queen,” Kevin agreed. “Andrew, I hit all the drills with my left hand tonight. All of them, in a row, no mistakes.” He was exuberant with it and he leaned in because he wanted to share the brightness coursing through him with Andrew, and Andrew met him halfway, their lips crashing together, their hands on each other’s faces, and for a moment everything felt like it had _before._

It took all of fifteen minutes for the tattoo artist Jackson to ink the small queen chess piece on Kevin’s cheekbone, and the work was exquisite - fine lined and perfectly filled with ebony ink. 

Fifteen minutes, and the inescapable shackle of his short lifetime was rendered obsolete. 

Check and mate. 

When Jackson handed him the small mirror Kevin stared and stared at it, felt like he was floating, felt giddy with it. He giggled before he could stop it from coming out and slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. Andrew rolled his eyes at him and Jackson chuckled. “I take it you like it,” Jackson said with a grin as he applied ointment and a small piece of clear wrap to Kevin’s cheek. It was done. 

Kevin couldn’t tamp down the floating freeness, couldn’t rein in his smile, and it was contagious. Andrew drove them back, exuberant bass on the speakers, his fingers tangled with Kevin’s in a way they rarely allowed themselves. 

Back at Fox Tower Andrew dragged Kevin from the elevator, up the stairs to the roof, pushed him to the ground against the buffer wall and straddled him, kissing him stupid, carefully avoiding his new tattoo because Andrew was never gentle but he was _always_ careful. 

It was teeth and breath and roving hands, and when Andrew slid warm palms under Kevin’s shirt he said _yes_ and when Andrew mouthed at his neck, bit his ear, tucked his fingers beneath the waistband of Kevin’s jeans he said _yes_ and when Kevin asked Andrew if he could touch him he said _yes_ too. 

Kevin held on to Andrew’s shoulders as he came in Andrew’s hand under the stars, as Andrew tucked his face into Kevin’s neck and came with a quiet gasp and his teeth against Kevin’s skin, and everything felt right for just a moment.

  
  


_Loathe the way they light candles in Rome_

_But love the sweet air of the votives_

_Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone_

_Engage with the pain as a motive_

  
  


It had been two months since Riko died. The official line was that he’d killed himself after being admitted to a psych ward, but Kevin knew better. Riko had broken Kevin’s hand on national television and there had been no covering for him this time. Ichirou had been furious at the mess his baby brother had caused, but not furious enough to send Tetsuji packing as well. Everything had happened so quickly: Kevin was yanked from the Nest by an irate and newly crowned Lord Ichirou, and deposited with the Foxes, letter in hand proclaiming Coach David Wymack to be his father. 

Ichirou’s surgeons had set his hand, and Ichirou had set him free. 

Kevin had been hysterical, and when he calmed down, he realized what had really happened: he had left Jean and Nathaniel behind at the mercy of Tetsuji and his crumbling empire. 

He fought then, tried to leave, to go back to the Nest, to claw his way out of Wymack’s apartment, until finally Andrew had sat on him, wrapped his strong hands around Kevin’s forearms, his face stretched in an unnatural grin from ear to ear. Wymack shouted and Abby pleaded, but Andrew had casually leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I’ll help you get them out, if you can pull enough strings to get me off these drugs.” 

Kevin had stilled, focused on something solid and serious and true behind the manic gleam in Andrew’s eyes. In that moment, in the midst of the chaos, Andrew was a beacon, was someone he could hold on to.

Kevin got him off the drugs. He rallied Betsy and Wymack and Abby, using every bit of his Raven trained schmooze to finagle a re-evaluation and subsequent switch to a more appropriate antidepressant for Andrew. 

And Andrew had held up his end of the deal. It took time, and planning - promises made, and negotiations with Ichirou - but in the end Andrew and Renee and Kevin had marched into the Nest to free Jean and Nathaniel. 

That had been four weeks ago - four weeks since Nathaniel and Jean had looked at Kevin with twin faces of hope and mistrust, four weeks since they’d refused the offer to join the Foxes and sought refuge with the Trojans instead. 

It had hurt - of course it had - but in the end Kevin had not been surprised. It had been the three of them together in the Nest for almost as long as he could remember, but Kevin knew on some level that they’d always held him apart. 

Kevin had belonged to Riko, and Nathaniel and Jean were property. 

No matter the circumstances, no matter the reason - no matter that he came back for them - ultimately, Kevin had left them there. 

Kevin sighed, tapping at the phone in his hand. He had a rare moment of privacy in their dorm while Andrew and Aaron and Nicky were in class. Coming to a decision, Kevin called Jeremy because he was scared that if he called Jean or Nathaniel they wouldn’t pick up. 

“Kevin Day!” Jeremy’s cheer came through the phone like sunshine and Kevin couldn’t help but smile.

“Jeremy, hey,” he said warmly. “How are things at USC?”

“Oh you know, we’re copesetic man. Excited for the season.”

“I bet,” Kevin hummed, and then stalled out. 

There were a few seconds of silence and then Jeremy said, “It’s okay, you know. You can ask.”

Kevin squeezed his eyes tight. Fucking Jeremy. “How are they?” he asked, almost a whisper. 

“They’re fine. Figuring things out. Really Kevin. They are good.”

“Yeah?” Kevin said, tentatively. 

“Really. It’s...I put them in a room together. They seem to be okay.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. 

It was another minute of awkward silence, and then Jeremy said in a tone Kevin had never heard from him before, “It was fucked there, wasn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question, but. “Yes. It was,” Kevin confirmed. 

“I’ve got them Kev. It’s okay, from our end,” Jeremy said. 

Kevin squeezed his eyes tighter, images of Nathaniel and Jean imprinted behind his eyelids, and he said nothing. 

“And you? Kevin? Are you okay?” Jeremy’s voice came through tinny and distant this time. 

No one had asked him that in a while.

“Mostly,” he said, thinking about Andrew. 

“I’ll take it,” Jeremy said. “But try to do better than mostly before we see you at semifinals, Day - you’ll need a reserve to recover when we sweep the court with you.”

“Oh, is that how it is?”

“Sure is. You made a tactical error, you know, when you gave us these two.”

Kevin sighed. “Yeah, they’re really fucking good aren’t they?”

“They are really fucking good,” Jeremy agreed. “We’ve already moved them to the starting line.”

“You’d be an idiot if you didn’t.”

Jeremy laughed. “I am many things, but idiot I am not.”

Kevin wasn’t entirely sure he could say the same. 

“Hey Kev? I’ve gotta run to practice but look, I’ll keep you updated. We’re all taking care of them. It’s a good fit. They are gonna be okay.”

“Thanks,” Kevin managed. 

“You’re a good friend, Day.”

Kevin didn’t know what to say to that, or even if it was true, so he ignored it. “Alright, Knox. Talk soon.”

Kevin hung up, feeling both better and worse than before the call. He missed them, both of them, but if they couldn’t be Foxes, there was no better place for Nathaniel and Jean than with Jeremy. 

Kevin closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch. He was due to meet Renee for yoga - cross training that they’d yet to talk the rest of the Foxes into. Jeremy wasn’t wrong; while Kevin had faith that they’d make it to semi-finals, there was no question that the Trojans would wipe the floor with them. The only Foxes who came near his level were Boyd and Andrew - maybe Allison and Seth on a good day - but getting them to _care_ as much as Kevin did was impossible. He dragged himself off the couch to change, and headed down to the first floor rec room to meet Renee. 

“I invited Andrew,” Renee said by way of greeting when Kevin pushed into the room. 

Kevin raised an eyebrow and settled down on his mat next to her. “How did that go for you?” 

Renee smiled serenely. “About how you would expect,” she said. 

“Yeah,” Kevin said. It had never been said outright, and it wasn’t like it was a secret, but Kevin was pretty sure Renee was the only one who knew about him and Andrew. If Kevin knew how to bring it up with Renee, he would. She cared about Andrew, she saw past the surface to the man inside. But Kevin didn’t know how to have that conversation, so he changed the subject. “I talked to Jeremy. He said Jean and Nathaniel are doing as well as can be expected. Settling in.” 

Renee regarded him, and only hesitated briefly before she said, “Yes. I should tell you I have been texting with Jean.” 

Oh. Kevin blinked in surprise. Renee had been the calm in the storm when they’d pulled them from the Nest, and Jean had clung to her initially - Kevin just hadn’t realized they’d hit it off quite that well. 

As the sharp pain of that knowledge squeezed his heart, he wondered when their distance from him now would stop hurting so much. All he could think was that he wanted to crawl into the GS next to Andrew, close his eyes and leave the world behind. 

Renee reached over and pressed a gentle hand on his knee. “They will come around. They love you. It will just take time.” 

Kevin nodded, his throat closing up on him, and he realized the last thing he could handle right now was Renee’s particular brand of kindness. He glanced up at the clock. Andrew should be back from class any minute now. “I think I need to take a raincheck on yoga for today,” he managed to Renee, and she didn’t stop him as he scooped up his mat and left the room. 

He texted Andrew from the elevator.

_I need to get out of here._

**_i’ll be there in ten._ **

_Columbia?_

**_yes_ **

_Be done with this now_

_And jump off the roof_

_Can you hear me Achilles?_

_I'm talking to you_

  
  


Friday night at Eden’s was everything Kevin needed. Even Andrew’s shoulders came down an inch when they’d walked through the doors and claimed their usual booth - roomy with both Aaron and Nicky back in Palmetto. Kevin leaned back, his shoulder brushing Andrew’s. It was too loud for them to talk easily, and that was okay. They watched the clubbers dance and drink, electric notes filling the air and a rainbow of lights casting decadent shadows around them. Andrew rested his hand on Kevin’s thigh, grounding him, connecting them, and Kevin let his body go boneless. The thrumming music swept the cobwebs from his brain, and the vodka washed him clean until the steady hum and buzz of it all danced through his veins, Andrew at his side and the world far away. 

Andrew nursed a single whisky all night, and before midnight he tapped Kevin’s thigh three times, and Kevin took it for the signal that it was time to go. Back at the house Kevin had hoped they would sit on the porch and talk, that maybe Kevin could ride the pleasant vibrations of Eden’s, cocoon the two of them and suss out whatever had dragged Andrew from their night practices, whatever had stymied the flow of words between them. 

Instead, they were barely through the front door before Andrew backed Kevin into the bedroom, strong hands on Kevin’s waist, walking him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he went down. 

“Tall,” Andrew muttered, kissing him now that he could reach. 

“Short,” Kevin countered, grinning against his lips, smokey and firm. Kevin pushed away enough to ask, “Andrew?” He held his hands in the air between them, asking for the edges of the map, and Andrew grabbed his wrists and pulled palms steadily to his own hips. 

Kevin stilled, and Andrew waited. Kevin knew better than to question the boundaries that Andrew drew, but this was new territory, and Andrew hadn’t really talked to him for weeks now. “I want…” Kevin trailed off. He wanted this, but he also wanted more, and they needed to talk. 

“What do you want Kevin?” Andrew kissed the question into the corner of his mouth, into his neck.

“Andrew, I want…” he tried again, but Andrew’s lips were distracting. “Wait,” he managed. 

Andrew stopped, pulled back. He was wedged between Kevin’s knees and Kevin didn’t want him to stop, but he had Andrew’s undivided attention now and he wasn’t going to waste it. “I want to know what you want,” Kevin said. 

Andrew quirked an eyebrow, slid his hands down Kevin’s arms loosely, but he didn’t step back. “I want nothing,” he said. 

Kevin frowned. “This isn’t nothing.” 

“Is it not?” 

Kevin sighed. He wanted to wrap his arms around Andrew’s waist, pull him close, protect him from everyone that wanted to take and take and never give. Andrew let them take, Kevin knew that, but he’d never felt shoved into that bracket until this moment. He refused to be like them, refused to take advantage of what he knew to be true about Andrew: that the man in front of him would turn himself inside out and give everything he had to those he loved. Kevin tucked a finger under the edge of Andrew’s armband, tugged gently before placing his hand back on Andrew’s hip, and Andrew watched his movements intently before returning golden hazel eyes to his. 

“Tell me what’s going on,” Kevin said softly. 

Andrew stared at him for so long that Kevin had given up on any kind of answer, when finally Andrew sighed and said, “Nothing.”

Andrew was lying to him. Kevin nodded, because there was nothing else to do. 

Kevin’s hands were still planted on Andrew’s hips, but Andrew hadn’t moved away so Kevin left them there. _This_ hadn’t changed: the heat between them, the touch, the warmth of fingers on skin and lips crashing together. But Andrew had left the court, had stopped talking to him, and that had all changed when - _oh._

When they’d rescued Jean and Nathaniel. 

Andrew had not stepped onto court with him for night practice since they’d come back from USC. It had been four weeks of Andrew receding, pulling away, while Kevin was stuck in his own head. 

Kevin sucked in a breath. He felt like a fucking idiot. This had been happening for four weeks, and he was only now really noticing. “I can’t do this tonight,” Kevin said, meaning lips and hands without honesty behind them. “Do you want me to sleep in Aaron’s room?” 

Andrew shook his head slowly _,_ opened his mouth, and then closed it again. 

“You have to tell me if you want me to stay. It’s okay if you don’t Andrew.”

“Fuck you,” Andrew said, and the look in his eyes was complicated, but there was no heat behind it. “Stay. Just. Stay.”

Kevin stayed. They brushed their teeth, grabbed bottles of water, changed into sweats. Kevin took up residence on the far side of the bed from Andrew, the whir of the ceiling fan the only noise in the room. 

Something was definitely _wrong_ _,_ but as Kevin drifted into sleep Andrew reached out with one hand, and Kevin met him halfway, their knuckles brushing together as they fell asleep. 

This - _them_ \- still felt like home.

  
  


_How the most dangerous thing is to love_

_How you will heal and you'll rise above_

_Crowned by an overture bold and beyond_

_Ah, it's more courageous to overcome_

  
  


It took four days of Andrew avoiding him before Kevin broke.

Four days of Andrew disappearing after practice to hide out on the roof. 

Four days of Andrew sliding into their room at midnight, smelling of smoke and starlight while Kevin lay in bed, eyes squeezed shut and heart aching. 

Four days of Andrew not looking at him, not touching him, not talking to him. 

Kevin stood in their dorm, his exy bag on the ground next to him, caught in indecision. For once there was somewhere else he’d rather be than the court. Someone else he’d rather be with. He looked up, like he could sail through the ceiling, past the roof, out into the night sky. Like he could hook an arm companionably around the moon and look down at Andrew, see him tucked a little too close to the edge, cigarette in hand, eyes unfathomable and trained on the horizon.

He had tried to give him space, but all he could see was Andrew fading away, leaving him behind, preparing to jump off the roof without Kevin, and Kevin was going to have to tell that dense motherfucker that if he jumped, Kevin was jumping too. 

Decision made, Kevin took the stairs two at a time and pushed out onto the roof. Andrew was where he always was, a god surveying his kingdom, distant and closed off and so fucking beautiful - and Kevin loved him. 

He stopped, feet stuck to the ground halfway across the roof. The night was clear and cold, his breath coming out in cloudy puffs and the stars were fighting the streetlights below for dominance. Kevin thought he might reach up to grab one, pull it down and tuck it into Andrew’s palm, let the starshine chase all the shadows away. 

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said. It was out of his mouth before he realized that was what he was going to say, and the words forced Andrew to look at him. 

“For what.” Andrew’s voice was empty. 

Kevin closed the distance between them, folding his long legs until he was sitting, facing Andrew, giving Andrew no choice but to look at him or pointedly look away. His heart was pounding in his throat because they didn’t do this - this _talking_ thing - but if he wanted Andrew to tell him what was wrong, if they were going to fix this, well then maybe Kevin had to go first.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said again firmly. “I should have done this weeks ago. I am sorry I didn’t notice sooner. I am sorry I have been so wrapped up in my own shit. I am sorry for whatever I have done that has made you pull away from me.”

“Stop saying you are sorry,” Andrew bit out, and he did look away from Kevin then.

“No. I won’t. I _am_ sorry. I’m not willing to lose you.”

Andrew huffed, dug out a cigarette and lit it, but said nothing. 

“What changed?”

Andrew shrugged. “Our deal is over. Your Ravens are free.”

Kevin searched Andrew’s face. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Us,” Andrew repeated mockingly, and Kevin flinched involuntarily at his tone. But Andrew wasn’t cruel to anyone but himself. It wasn’t Kevin he was mocking. “I am not, nor will I ever be, Nathaniel and Jean.”

“What the - Andrew I have no idea what that means.”

“Do you not?”

“No I-,” Kevin paused. Andrew knew that he’d been _together_ with Nathaniel and Jean, and he’d just watched Kevin’s heart break when they’d rejected him, had watched Kevin try to bolster that battered heart these last few weeks. He had tried to be there for him, but had slowly and surely pulled away, shuttered off, sequestered himself on the roof. Without Kevin. Because he thought that there was somewhere else Kevin would rather be. Someone else - two someone elses - that Kevin would rather be with. 

“No. Andrew, it’s not like that.” Kevin took a deep breath. Considered his words carefully. “I would choose to be with you even if they were here, even if they had come back to Palmetto with us. I love them. I will always love them, but it wasn’t a choice what we were to each other. Not really. It was survival and grabbing what we could. Andrew, you are a choice. You are everything that I want. For me, nothing has changed.”

Andrew was searching Kevin’s face and Kevin let him, felt the pull of Andrew, wanted desperately to wrap around him, but kept his hands to himself. Kevin could wait. 

“I do not know how to do this,” Andrew said finally, his eyes still intent on Kevin, but there was a crack in his shield and something unclenched in Kevin’s chest. It was an opening, an invitation, and Kevin was going to grab it with both hands. 

“Get off the roof. Come back to the court. Play with me.”

“Exy,” Andrew scoffed. “Is that all you want?”

“No I - I don’t care about that.” Andrew rolled his eyes and Kevin huffed, but his heart was soaring because Andrew was _reacting_ to him, the light was crawling tentatively back into his eyes and Kevin would listen to Andrew make fun of exy for _hours_ just to see that light spark again. “I mean, _fine,_ I do care, you know I do. You are amazing. You will be Court. But it’s not for me Andrew, I just want it for you. This - all of this - I want it for you because I-,”

Kevin was cut off when Andrew clapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t,” Andrew said, horrified.

Kevin grinned behind his palm, and when Andrew drew his hand away he said, “Shutting me up doesn’t make it not true.”

Andrew turned, slid around so they were face to face, their knees bumping. He searched Kevin’s face for a long moment before reaching up to brush cold fingers underneath his tattoo. “I am not good with words,” he said, quietly. 

Kevin took it for the apology that it was, and he tapped his fingertips on Andrew’s elbows, and at his small nod he slid his hands up Andrew’s arms to his shoulders. “I am sorry that it took me so long to figure it out.” 

Andrew shook his head slowly. “It should not be your job.” 

“We could work out a system,” Kevin mused. “Smoke signals maybe?” 

“Fuck you,” Andrew hummed. 

“Carrier pigeon?” 

“Shut up,” Andrew said. 

“Make me.” 

“Fine,” Andrew growled, and he wrapped his hand behind Kevin’s neck, pulled him down, kissed him like he was drowning and Kevin was his salvation, until neither of them were shivering from the cold. 

“Come to the court with me,” Kevin gasped against Andrew’s lips when they pulled apart.

“And there it is,” Andrew muttered, but he kissed Kevin again and then came down from the roof to drive them to the court. 

Andrew kicked back in the stands, his gaze on Kevin as he set up his cones. Kevin moved through the nine drills one by one, left handed, hitting them perfectly. He needed to build up power to put behind his swing, but his accuracy was perfect. He turned triumphantly to Andrew after he’d knocked down the last cone, but he wasn’t there. 

Kevin’s heart barely had time to consider dropping out of his chest before he whipped around to the sound of the inner door banging open, and Andrew was walking onto the court in full gear, his heavy goalie racket slung across his shoulders. 

Kevin stared at him, frozen and speechless, an unruly hope blossoming when Andrew tilted his head towards the goal and said, “Show me.” 

An achingly fierce grin took over Kevin’s face when Andrew stepped into the goal and settled down in a way that meant he was serious. 

Kevin flipped his racket, left hand dominant, and scooped up a ball. 

Andrew pulled no punches, deflecting shot after shot, pushing Kevin harder and harder, and it was breathtaking to watch Andrew stand in goal and give Kevin everything he had. It went on until sweat was dripping between Kevin’s shoulder blades, until his chest was heaving, until he took two steps and landed an impossible shot in the lower right corner of Andrew’s goal. 

Andrew dropped his racket and pulled off his helmet. Kevin did the same and with quick steps they crashed together. 

“You are too fucking tall,” Andrew said, and he fisted the front of Kevin’s jersey and pulled him down into a bruising kiss. 

“We could get you a step stool,” Kevin murmured against Andrew’s neck as they wrapped arms around each other and dropped to their knees. 

“I will stab you,” Andrew said around his teeth as he bit Kevin’s collarbones, tugging his shirt aside. 

“We could tote it around everywhere we go,” Kevin gasped out as Andrew’s fingers dipped under the edge of his shorts. 

“I hate you,” Andrew said lovingly as he pushed Kevin flat on the court and ran clever hands up his sides.

“But you will play with me?” Kevin moaned against Andrew’s lips.

“Yes. Every night.” Andrew whispered that promise into Kevin’s mouth, and Kevin tucked it around his heart for safekeeping and kissed him with everything he had. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on tumblr if ya wanna - [justadreamfox](https://justadreamfox.tumblr.com/)


End file.
